Tears of the Nile
by Sey'nandri
Summary: Lyanna, sister to the almighty Pharaoh, is caught up in a marriage she doesn't want. So when she is kidnapped by the ever elusive Theif King Bakura, could this be her chance at the freedom she craves? BakuraLyanna
1. Chapter 1

Dueljewl: This is my first fic to be Bakura centered so please, if he starts seeming a little OOC, tell me and I will be happy to fix it. It's a romance fic with an original character so yeah…. The action/adventure category really isn't a main thing in this but it does apply to latter chapies. It kinda starts off slow but as the chapters go up it will pick up speed, promise! 

At the very beginning Yami may seem a little OOC, but that's because he's described through Lyanna's second person point of view. I'm really working on the whole thing were different characters are more likely to notice different things or take them differently than others when it's their point of view. Bear with me please, it won't take long. 

You're probably tired of listening to me so I'll just let ya get on to the fic. Enjoy!

Lyanna, quivering with an anger she deeply longed to express, stood before her older brother, her head bowed in a mockery of submission. Her dark black hair fell into light, violet eyes, partially obscuring the scene before her. Yami sat perched atop his golden throne, looking every inch the powerful Pharaoh, Egypt's main facet of power. To his right, the High Priest Seito -- and their cousin -- gripped his golden rod, the usual superior air about him. A serving girl of no more than eleven, clad in the same cheap, rough spun white linen all slaves wore, gripped a silver tray nervously, a goblet of water and one of wine resting atop it. Her eyes darted between the Pharaoh and High Priest, in awe of the company she stood in. Around the room, other dignitaries of varying degree ringed the walls; the lesser shoved to the back. 

__

It isn't fair; she fumed, thinking back to when the horrible news had first been delivered to the royal place by envoy.

The marriage proposal between Rome and Egypt had been successfully completed; in a week, Yami would be shipping her off to some country she had never seen to wed a sickly little boy of ten. The fact that she was five years his senior seemed to matter not to her brother; such trivial details did not matter when you could be making a powerful alliance with Rome. 

So long as it brought his kingdom greater strength, Yami would have married her to a camel if he had to; she would have taken the camel in a heartbeat, so long as it meant she could stay in Egypt. 

She had prayed to the gods fervently, using every ounce of will she contained to persuade them to show the Romans that the marriage would not be in their best interest. But, even after spending liberal amounts of time at Ma'ats' temple, hoping to find some justice from her ordeal, her brother still insisted on pursuing the arrangement to the end. 

"Think of the greater good, little Lyanna," Yami began, smiling down at her as if bestowing the greatest gift she could wish for. "You shall live in luxury in Rome, wed to the single heir of their current 'Caesar'." He pronounced the new word with some difficulty, as they all did. "You shall be the great link between the two most powerful nations in the world!" 

Her head jerked upright sharply; what did she care for loyalties and alliances? It would be Yami and his heirs that ruled, and she would be shunted to the side, little more than decor for any room she stood in. And, inevitably, it would be the same in Rome; stand where you're told and remember to look pretty. 

"If I may, Pharaoh?" Seito asked courteously. 

Lyanna's eye's shifted to her cousin's face, unwillingly curious as to what he had to say; yet it remained as unreadable ever. 

"Yes, yes." Yami replied impatiently, waving for him to continue. 

"Perhaps, if I may be so bold, her highness does not wish to see the importance of this marriage contract, and only wishes to sulk in her own self - pity?" 

Lyanna's violet eyes flashed angrily, more or less because he was partially correct. Yami, similarly affronted by the comment, narrowed his eyes, obviously displeased with his cousin's latest observation. 

"That is too bold, Seito" 

Lyanna smiled inwardly at her brother's purposeful discard of Seito's title in court. Seito bowed low -- only slightly lower than his station demanded -- straightening as soon as he reached the end of the dip. Unnoticed to most whom were not close enough to see, a muscle in Seito's cheek started to twinge, as it always did whenever he was particularly ill tempered. 

"That is enough," Yami said, motioning the girl forward so that he could take hold of one of the two goblets. "I grow weary of arguing the same facts over and over until all point of the discussion is ran into the ground." 

He waved his hand, signing for the next petitioner. Lyanna was not too angered not to notice her dismissal. Her back stiffened as she turned sharply, stalking from the large room. Childish yes, but there was nothing better that she could do. As the golden doors swung outwards, she swore to herself to find any means possible to escape the fate set before her, even if it meant to defy the Gods.

Bakura's eyes traveled across several worn tables, chairs of different sizes and styles surrounding them and most of those broken or sloppily mended. In the far corner, two burly field hands diced with their week's pay, egged on by their friends as they won or lose varying tosses. At another table a lone man lay slumped across its surface, wine soaking into the wood and his clothing. Scattered through the room were more people in varying states of drunkenness, though it was hardly crowded let alone half full. 

His lips began to curl into a sneer as he took in the flaking white wash and grimy floor, in much need of a good cleaning. As his gaze fell on the proprietor of the inn - a rather large man, dressed in loose linen trousers gathered at the ankle with worn bits of string and a similar linen vest, left open to expose several hairy rolls of hairy fat. The sneer changed to that of a condescending half-smile, more of a pulling at the corners of his lips than anything else. 

The man turned just so and his eyes flicked across Bakura. Slowly he registered whom he had just seen as his eyes traveled once more across the tomb robber. His face split into a wide grin, exposing several yellow, rotting teeth, as he made his way to where Bakura stood, his arms spread wide in greeting. 

"Curse you Bakura, I thought they 'ad tossed yer Ra - forsaken carcass to the crocs in de Nile already." He chuckled loudly, catching Bakura in a tight hug and squeezing till he could hardly breathe. 

Bakura gagged slightly, taking in the fumes of stale alcohol and several weeks' worth of sweat. As he was let down, he forced his expression so that a half grin covered his disgust at being swept up by the innkeeper, Khalid. 

" 'Fraid not, Khalid. Though I have a list of people I could name who can't wait to see the day."

Khalid chuckled, showing several gaps were teeth had rotten away. "Aye and the Pharaoh 'im self would be at de top o' dat list, 'e would." He shook his head, a frown slowly curving his fat face downwards. "It no be any business o' mine, Bakura, but to go makin' enemies wit' the Pharaoh _and_ 'is High Priest, that no be a smart thing to do."

"Let me handle the Pharaoh, you just handle these drunkards."

Khalid nodded slowly, his face brightening at the prospect of a new spender. "You'll be wantin' a room, you would, like usual?"

Bakura shook his head, deciding the sooner he was about his business the better. "Not this time Khalid. Though a drink of your best ale would be a welcome sight."

He hooked his foot around the nearest chair, pulling it out and falling into it gracelessly. Placing his feet atop the table, he grinned as Khalid frowned momentarily, turning quickly to get the ale, likely no better fit for pigs than customers. 

Moments later, a darkly tanned girl with hair the color of pitch stood directly in front of him, one fist on hips as she regarded him with what he assumed was supposed to be a severe expression. She tapped her foot impatiently, as though expecting him to do something. Deciding to play along, he cocked his head to the side, placing his hands behind his head as he grinned winningly at her.

"Hello Sari, what seems to be the matter?" he questioned blandly, amused as she seemed torn between swooning and thumping him over the head with the pewter mug in her hands. 

"You left me Bakura! You promised you'd take me with you and I wake up to find the place beside me in bed empty and not a trace of you!" Her simpering whine grated on his nerves, but he maintained the grin.

"So I suppose the mug must have my ale, right?"

Letting out a wail of frustration, she smashed the mug down on the table, sloshing the brown, watered down liquid over the sides. Bakura's feet thudded as they fell to the ground, his arms falling to his sides as he looked up at Sari.

"Hey now, I have to pay for that miserable excuse for a drink. May as well get some of it down my throat."

Catching her hand as she reached out for the ale -- most likely to dump it in his face -- he twisted her about so she fell into his lap. Smiling down at her expectant face, he laughed inwardly at the look of utmost adherence that shown in her eyes. It was pathetic, really, but what were you to do when the Pharaoh wanted your head and all the good establishments already knew your face on sight?

"Now, we wouldn't want any of that would we?" 

Sari shook her head hurriedly, wrapping her arms around his neck with a giggle. "Oh, I've missed you Bakura." She said, her lips forming into an exaggerated pout. "There's never anything to do when you're gone. Just smelly field hands to keep me company, when I'd so rather be with you."

Bakura chuckled, leaning back in the chair. It was good to be back in Cairo.

Striding purposefully away from the main buildings of the palace, the tale white spires and columns flaring behind her dramatically, Lyanna made her way to the temple of Ma'at, unsure of what exactly she meant to do. The whirlwind that was her thoughts swirled like desert storms, disarrayed and with no set direction. _Two days left_, she thought frantically, _just two days to find some way to get out of leaving Egypt_. The cooling breeze of late evening wafted past, swirling her ebony tresses about her face, screening her troubled gaze. She twitched her shoulders, uncomfortable in the long, white silk dress. They had taken to dressing her in the Roman fashions, and had withheld nothing in the way of detail.

The dress covered most of her except for being sleeveless, tight around the waist and with narrow skirts. Though made of an opaque silk, Lyanna felt uncomfortable in the garment; the way it hinted everything yet managed to reveal nothing. Dark blue embroidered scrollwork encircled the scooped neckline and climbed the bodice, emphasizing what was already there. Which was, to be blunt, not much. Truth be told, Lyanna was indeed skinny though made it seem a fault, with slim hips and little in the way of chest. Open toed sandals that did little more than giver her something to stand on adorned her feet, the laces winding to half a foot above her ankle but well covered by the dress.

Lyanna hated it. 

She stumbled as she suddenly came upon the steps, regaining her balance on the fourth step after almost plunging headfirst into the pale marble stairs. Flashes of the priests called to Ma'at's order showed in between the tall, fluted columns that ringed the building of worship. They made an orderly procession to the door, making their way to wherever it was the priests went when the day's work was finished; wherever it was, Lyanna had never been told. She waited for them to pass, straining not to pull at the dress to try to loosen it.

When the last had gone, she threw dignity to the wind and pulled the skirt of her dress up to knee level, sprinting the rest of the way up the stairs and to the middle of the open chamber. The room rang at each heavy footfall, resonating and redoubling to echo in distorted tones. Half ringed with more of the fluted columns, a large statue of Ma'at stood in the middle, the offerings of others scattered about her feet. Her kindly face smiled down at Lyanna, beautiful and wise, justice and truth in all its entirety. An ostrich feather stuck up from her hair, the carvings all so delicate as to make Ma'at seem almost lifelike.

Bakura ghosted past the guards, slowly making his way to his destination. He chuckled inwardly; Yami may as well blindfold his sentries for all the good they did to keep Bakura out. It would not take them long to find their companions, tucked behind a bush that had barely been big enough to fit one behind let alone two. 

Up ahead a building suddenly loomed into view, swinging into focus unexpectedly. It was made all of pale white marble slashed with streaks of silver gleaming in the starlight. Tall columns supported the arched roof, hieroglyphs engraved into the cold surface. Finding the place deserted, Bakura trotted up the steps, crouched slightly and moving with a smooth grace borne from years of practice. 

Stepping inside the building, which he now recognized as a temple, he made his way to the center slowly, his feet ringing against the floor. Against one wall was a small altar, filled with statuettes of the goddess and jewelry of every variety. Pottery painted with images of the goddess stood on either side, columns of hieroglyphs telling her glories and attributes. Reaching into the pile, he withdrew a heavy golden necklace, more like a collar with its two-inch thickness and studded with jewels.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" A cold voice snapped from the shadows.

Bakura came very near to jumping, turning around slowly to see who had come to the temple. A form detached itself from the shadows behind the giant statue of Ma'at in the middle. As the shape came into the dull light of a lone candle and whatever moonlight streamed through, Bakura was able to make out the shape of a woman. The white of her outfit did not help to conceal her, only managed to reflect any light and better illumine her form. He surveyed her with a critical eye, noting on different circumstances she might have been nice for a cuddle, though skinny as she was he would have passed her over if not for her face. Not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but by her stance a spirited thing.

An eyebrow arched slightly at her tone, his mouth drawing up in a smile that only brought half his mouth up. "Such an authoritative little girl, are we? This truly shall be amusing."

She tossed her head angrily, an indignant sniff sounding across the dark room. "You would do better to speak with more respect to the Princess of Egypt, the Pharaoh's favored sibling." 

"Ah, but the Pharaoh has _only_ one sibling." Bakura answered, slowly stepping away from the altar and taking steps towards the girl; he was running out of time and had no time to deal with a girl who seemed to think highly of herself and her titles, whatever they might be. "No matter what, the least favored sibling would also be the most favored sibling as there is only one to fill both positions. So you see, you are at a slight disadvantage in that aspect. That is, if you really are who you say you are, which I highly doubt. I was not born yesterday."

Hands clenched to her sides, Bakura half expected her to stomp her foot and stick out her tongue. She seemed to be struggling to find something more to say and was only able to manage "How dare you! You would doubt the word of Egypt's only princess? You, a mere _thief_ who isn't even as good as he seems to think?" She twisted the word thief to make it sound as if it were a vile that she had been forced to sully her tongue by saying. 

The shouts and dull clanking of metal on the steps alerted Bakura to the soon to be arrival of the guards. Swearing a string of vulgar oaths, Bakura finished the distance between him and the girl; perhaps he could use this to his best advantage. 

"Listen, 'Princess', I _really_ don't have time for this. So, if you don't mind." 

So saying, Bakura bent his knees, grasping her waist in his hands, ignoring her gasp and shouts of protest as he heaved her over his shoulder. Holding her so, Bakura made for the opposite direction he had came, reaching back to smother her mouth with his hand; she was making too much noise for him to escape without further notice. At a sharp nip in the center of his palm he cursed, removing the hand from her mouth to smack her soundly over the behind. A startled yelp momentarily cut of her shouts and he once again smothered her mouth with his hand. 

Dueljewl: Well that was it, my first chapie. Good? Bad? Hate it with a passion? I'll never know till ya review! Creative criticism is welcomed but if you really feel the need to do an all out flame, at least give details to what you find so appalling about this fic. I'll probably laugh at it anyway, but it's always nice to have a well thought out flame, ne? 

Ja ne!


	2. Chapter 2

Dueljewl: Gomen nasi mina-san! I can't believe it took so long to update! Before you throw rocks, let me say that my Internet was seriously screwed up so I had to retype this entire fic on a different computer and I only get to use the Internet occasionally. I really will try not to have such a lag between up dates, but I can't promise anything at the moment.  
  
Reviews! I feel so loved! People actually like this fic. Thank you to all of my spiffy reviewers, you guys are the best!  
  
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Bakura ground his teeth together as he gazed ahead firmly, a useless attempt to force himself into some semblance of calm. The girl sat on a rock in the middle of the deserted, sandy area; arms folded across her chest stubbornly and head turned up with her nose in the air. She refused to acknowledge his presence or the fact that she had been kidnapped from the temple for that matter. The whole ordeal was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth, in his eyes. Thinking fleetingly of the opportunity he had had to slit her throat, he stalked over to her, growing impatient with her childish behavior.  
  
"Whether you like it or not, girl, I'm in charge now." He snapped, breaking the three-minute silence. "I'll ask you one more time, and then I stop being pleasant  
  
She turned her head slightly, regarding him from narrowed, violet eyes. "This is pleasant?"  
  
"On a good day, yes."  
  
"Well then, I'd hate to see you on a bad day  
  
"Keep it up and you'll know soon enough." He growled, advancing still further until he was less than two feet of her  
  
"I'm so scared." She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"You should be, girl. I've frightened men twice your size who've committed crimes far worse than any of mine."  
  
She sniffed dubiously and turned her head away from him once more, her eyes fixed on the clear, dark blue sky of early morning. Having had enough with meaningless attempts at pleasantness, Bakura seized her slim shoulders in his hands, dragging her upwards till she stood to her full height. Her mouth fell open as she gaped at him, struggling within his grasp in a futile attempt to break free. He waited till she was done, holding on with more than al little effort. She slowed after a few minutes, twisting only every now and then as she came too accept the fact that he wasn't about to let go, despite her wild thrashing.  
  
"Now, would you lie to answer my question and tell me your name? Unless you'd rather I called you girl all the time."  
  
She glared up at him, seeming to be struggling with whether to answer him or not. Biting her lower lip, her eyes closed as she drooped in his hands, head down cast.  
  
"Lyanna." She mumbled, the lone word barely comprehensible  
  
"What was that?" he asked, feigning not to have heard. It wouldn't hurt to toy with her just a little.  
  
"Lyanna!" she snapped, jerking her head up violently and almost knocking him in the chin.  
  
"See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He grinned down at her sulky scowl, releasing her to fall back to hr rocky perch.  
  
Turning away from her, he paced in a five-foot circle about her stone, every now and then changing direction. What was he supposed to do with a girl who seemed to believe she was related to the Pharaoh? It was a possibility, he admitted grudgingly, however slim it might be. Her clothes certainly were fine enough. The dress was a thin, gauzy silk that clung to her body in a most interesting fashion, showing nothing and hinting at everything, just barely opaque.  
  
Lyanna she had said her name was. Bakura had never been one to keep track of the rulers of the world, especially the ones of Egypt. His face twisted momentarily as he thought of the Pharaoh, but then it had passed, his face once more unreadable. He vaguely recalled the current Pharaoh's sibling as a girl, her name something along the lines of 'Leah'.  
  
"Wha--what do you mean to .do with me." She asked haltingly.  
  
Bakura ceased his pacing, turning his head just enough to gaze at her through slanted brown eyes. Her skin, like burnished copper, shown in the weak rays of early morning, dark black hair tangled about her face. He thought momentarily over the question, his brows drawing together.  
  
"Depending upon how valuable you turn out to be, who knows? Your worth may turn out to be too great to do anything, as of yet."  
  
Her eyes widened at his words, eyebrows seeming to be trying to climb into her hairline. "My worth?"  
  
One pale eyebrow arched as Bakura regarded her, turning to face her fully. "If you really are who you say you are, I couldn't just turn you over to some drunken old man with no more need than a young girl to entertain him, now could I? Your brother -- if he is your brother -- has several enemies out there, more than he'll ever know of. Some would pay a heavy blood price to gain such a leverage over him."  
  
Her pale amethyst eyes flashed angrily as se jumped from the rock, storming to just in front of him. She came only to his chin, forcing her to lift her neck upward to meet him gaze for gaze.  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" she shouted, her eyes betraying the confidence of her voice.  
  
Bakura grinned, gaining length at the offended set to her features. "For the right price, I'd sell you to the Roman Caesar."  
  
Her eyes enlarged momentarily, returning to their normal size almost instantly. She ducked her head, breaking the eye contact she had so persistently held only second earlier. Frowning at the display, Bakura crossed his arms over his chest considering her with an appraising eye.  
  
"Unless you would rather the harem," Bakura began, pleased to see her look up fearfully, "I suggest you behave. I'll not have you ruin another perfectly good heist like you did the other night."  
  
Bakura grimaced, the gold necklace a welcome weight in the pocket of is open robe. Unfortunately, that had been the only thin he had managed to obtain. The jewels inlaid in the gold would fetch a fair enough price, the gold even better, but unlike most of his robberies, he would be unable to actually keep any of what his hands had so carefully taken.  
  
"Now that that's settled, I believe I have a. friend . who might be able to give me some provisions and added help."  
  
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Yami's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he regarded the messenger before him once more. The news had come in he middle of the night when Lyanna had not been seen entering her rooms or found anywhere on the palace grounds. Hair still disheveled from waking to the urgent voices of one of his priests -- Isis, he believed it had been -- he had yet to find time to dress properly. The kilt he wore was hastily donned, precariously wrapped at the side of his waist.  
  
"And you mean to tell me that no one -- not a single person in the entire palace! -- saw Lyanna after sundown?" Yami's voice held a note of quite harshness, not unmissed by the messenger.  
  
The man swallowed nervously, sweat trickling down his darkly colored brow. He nodded, unable to get the words out at first.  
  
"She was last seen heading away from the palace, but where no one knows. She refused to take any of the guards with her or even a slave, demanding to be left alone." He hesitated, unsure of whether to continue or not. The gaze of the Pharaoh flashed somehow knowing he was holding something back. "She . she da-dared one of th-the guards to tr-try and s-stop her." He stuttered, gazing anxiously towards Yami.  
  
Yami swore under his breath, knowing the story for truth. Lyanna would do such a thing, if only to annoy him n some small way. She should have told him where she was going! Now she was Ra alone knew where with no protection. Images flashing before his eyes of what could be happening t her, his hands shook as he grasped a goblet of untouched, chilled wine in both hands.  
  
"You are dismissed." He murmured, unseeing of anything in front of him. Distantly he heard a relieved sigh followed by the hurried steps of the messenger departing.  
  
Lyanna was all he had left, really. He had protected her the best he could, but he was unsure of what brotherly roles exactly he was supposed to be fulfilling. The marriage had seemed the best thing at the time; perhaps in Rome she would be safer than here, in Egypt, where so may plotted for some way to gain power of their own and were willing to go to any means necessary to get what they wanted.  
  
His eyes closed as thoughts of the Roman envoy that was to come tomorrow crashed down. They would not be happy to find they had come all the way from their homeland only to have their profit from the contract missing.  
  
Brushing the matter aside -- Rome be damned for all he cared -- Yami strode across the antechamber to his suite or rooms to find the rest of his advisors and priests. Heads would roll if he found someone had harmed his little Lyanna.  
  
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Lyanna grimaced as the camel Bakura had 'liberated', as he put it, continued to bounce her around uncomfortably. Camels, she had found, were not comfortable to ride unless you had grown use to their odd gait. For what seemed the hundredth time she thought longingly of the feather stuffed cushions that decorated her rooms back in the place. She was rudely brought back to the present as the ungodly beast lurched forward in a sudden burst of energy.  
  
Squinting under the thick, woolen material Bakura had used to blindfold her, Lyanna tried once more to move it by rubbing her face against her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Again.  
  
"If you don't loosen your hold you're going to squeeze me in two." Bakura snapped grumpily.  
  
Grinning, she tightened her grip around his waist, some of the fabric of his robe falling between her arm and his stomach. He always wore it wide open, she had found, displaying a well-defined chest and a knee length kilt, much like the one Yami wore, but not so finely made. In response to her action, Bakura dug a well-placed elbow into her side, just below the ribs. With a yelp she loosened the hold, but only slightly; after all, he deserved some discomfort for kidnapping her.  
  
Smiling once more, Lyanna opened her mouth to reiterate what had become her favorite sentence.  
  
"Are we there yet?" she whined. She felt him tense with more than just a little satisfaction. It appeared that Bakura could not stand whiners, and was quick to yell whenever she began.  
  
"No, we're not." He replied through gritted teeth, the effort of not doing more showing in the strain of his voice.  
  
"Are we -- "  
  
"If you ask that damn question one more time, I swear by the seven regions of hell that I won't wait to see what you're worth and strangle you myself!"  
  
She swallowed as she felt Bakura turned around to face her. Unable to see him as she was, she could still feel his intense gaze eating through the cloth. Nodding slowly as he twisted back around, she loosened her hold on him till she was barely touching him at all, just to be safe.  
  
A few minutes passed in silence, Bakura tightening and loosening his hold on the reins, thinking of them as Lyanna's neck, and Lyanna brooding in her own thoughts. Growing impatient, she decided to push her luck.  
  
"So, who is this friend that you're taking me to?" she questioned, having nothing better to do. Unable to see any of the scenery, there was little to entertain her with. Staring at black got really old, really fast.  
  
"I wouldn't exactly call him a 'friend' " Bakura began slowly, "so much as someone who owes me a rather large favor."  
  
"How nice." Lyanna muttered dryly. "I've been kidnapped by a second rate tomb robber who's relying on a favor. Isn't this just wonderful."  
  
"I'd watch who I called second rate, if I were you, Princess. There's a brothel not far off from where we're headed and I'm sure they could use a new addition. Especially one who's untried, as I assume you are."  
  
Lyanna shivered, the brief flash of anger subdued as she remembered seeing some of the girls for the same purpose around the palace. She had only seen them long enough to see large black and purple bruises forming on arms or legs or face, marring whatever beauty they might have possessed.  
  
Subdued at last, Lyanna hung onto Bakura limply, shifting every now and then in a vain attempt at finding a more comfortable position. As the sun continued it's journey upwards, the heat intensified, making runnels of sweat stream down Lyanna's face.  
  
Unfortunately, the sweat made the blindfold wet. Coarse wool is never the most comfortable of things to have rubbing against your skin, let alone when it's damp. Scrunching her face up, trying desperately to ignore the steadily growing need to scratch her nose, Lyanna tried rubbing her face against her arm once more, not trying to remove it but to simply shift it in some way. Twisting the best she could and still hang on to Bakura, Lyanna slowly slid to the left, despite her efforts to right herself and rub her face at the same time.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Bakura demanded. His voice was that of an adult annoyed with a child.  
  
A flush crept into Lyanna's face as she slipped further yet, grab at Bakura's waist though she did.  
  
"Do you mind helping?" she snapped.  
  
Lyanna felt him turn in his seat in the high pomelled saddle, holding the reins with one hand while grabbing Lyanna by the hips and yanking her upwards. Never mind the fact that such an act included manhandling her. Or that Lyanna's face was completely red with mixed embarrassment and anger at being touched in such a demeaning fashion.  
  
"What the hell were you doing?" he demanded once more, gripping her wrist tightly in one hand.  
  
The camel had stopped, she noticed, for which she was only partially grateful. The grip tightened and he twisted till pain shot up her forearm. Lyanna bit her lip as tears stung her eyes, threatening to add their moisture to the material around her head. She wouldn't cry out, not in front o f him; his satisfaction would be too much if he knew he could hurt her, make her beg for him to stop.  
  
"Stubborn little brat, you are."  
  
He clucked his tongue, heeling the camel into motion, setting a ground eating pace. Lyanna glowered on the back of the beast, touching Bakura as little as possible. Leaving her injured arm free of him, she flexed the wrist, gradually working it till the knot of pain was little more than a dull throb, flaring only when she extended the fingers too far or rotated her hand too fast.  
  
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The rest of the trip went past in silence, neither in the mood to deal with the others current disposition. Lyanna spent the time in sullen thought, while Bakura watched the surrounding area with wary eyes. Slowing signs of civilization began creeping into view, the buildings circling 'round a cluster of plaster buildings delegated to worship of the gods and goddesses popular in this part of the land. Spiraling out, the buildings got steadily shabbier, the outskirts hardly deserving the name. None were above one story, made of sun dried clay that was found in vast supply so close to the Nile.  
  
Bakura reached back, tugging in a certain spot so the blindfold fell away as if never tied in place. Lyanna was left blinking furiously as the light suddenly changed from a dank gray to noonday brightness, heightened by the reflection of the surrounding sand. Heeling the camel into a fast trot, Bakura grimaced as the girls' arms tightened once more around his battered waist.  
  
It should be around here somewhere . there. The jumbled streets of the small town made it impossible to find any one building without an extended period of time wasted is search, sometimes given up for a lost cause, if one did not know the town well.  
  
Sliding off the saddle, Bakura grasped the reins in one hand, turning to impart a curt "stay" to Lyanna. She sniffed, opening her mouth as if she meant to say something and the then closing it once more as she jerked the wrist he had twisted earlier. Pulling the beast along. He headed for the plain, smallish building much like its' counterparts in almost every way, save that this one was even more ran down than most.  
  
He got as far as the door before an angry squawk made him turn slightly back the way he had come. Lyanna was scrambling from the saddle, both legs on one side of the saddle as she slid down on her belly. Not a comfortable situation from that height, in a dress, from the back of a camel. Bakura's eyes narrowed as she walked towards him stiffly, obviously sore from her da in a saddle.  
  
"I thought I told you to stay."  
  
Her head lifted to were it looked as if she meant to stare down her nose at him, dampened slightly by the height difference. "I will not remain behind while I'm being discussed like grain at market."  
  
Hesitating briefly, Bakura nodded to the girl, motioning for her to stay beside him. "You speak only when I tell you and say only what I tell you. Otherwise I'll bundle you up for the slave auctions."  
  
Ignoring her glare, Bakura turned to enter the small tavern. The building had little trade save the locals who needed to drown some misery or another in a cup of watered beer, the nearby crops of barely an excellent supply. The front room was filled with smoke, the patrons laughing rowdily or making coarse jokes with one another. The sound died down briefly as the two entered, only to resume once more with a few hollered suggestions to Lyanna.  
  
Bakura watched as her hand s tightened on her skirts to a white-knuckled grip, face darkening as one particular drunkard decided he'd be cute and throw her a coin, in hopes of a little attention later. Catching the coin out of the air, Bakura tucked it into a small pocket inside his robes, shooting a glance in the direction it had came. Needless to say, the shouts stopped as the customers returned to each other, and safer subjects.  
  
Scanning the room, Bakura's eyes stopped on the familiar head of Cail, swirling his drink with a dirty finger. Pulling Lyanna along behind him, he crossed to Cail, placing both hands on the table and leaning forwards, so that his face was just in front of the other mans'.  
  
"Cail, h -"  
  
That was as far as he got before Cail backward in his chair, screaming.  
  
Dueljewl: So . that's the end of that chappie. Did ya like it? It might have dragged along in places, but . yeah. I blame the caffeine deprivation. Once again, I am soooo sorry about the long wait between updates. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dueljewl: OMG, you guys have no idea how incredibly sorry I am for the uberly long delay! My computer has been pretty screwy lately and I've had a bad case of writers' block, two things that together don't make well for any author or their fic. I was actually surprised when I got the last few reviews for this; I didn't know anyone else was even reading this still!  
  
So, to all of you, I owe a massive sorry, and a thank you to those of you still reading this god forsaken fic.  
  
I had a few questions, so I guess I better clear that up. For those of you reading the manga, think of this between when Bakura stole Yami's father's mummy and before that whole showdown with the gods and Diabound (sp?). Bakura's role would be the Thief King we all know and love from the manga, so there will be some times where I mention that.  
  
Yami would be Yugi's other half, I just didn't know at the time that I wrote this what his real name was during the whole Egypt part of his life. So sorry to any of those people I may have confused; I was only going off of what I had from other fics. (Which probably wasn't the best thing to do hehehe.)  
  
So, if there are any more questions, just tell me in your reviews. Once again, I am soooo sorry about the humongous delay between updates; hopefully that will change soon.  
  
*stuff* = italics (my computer isn't working right at the moment)  
  
BORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDERBORDER  
  
"Cail, h -"  
  
That was as far as he got before Cail backward in his chair, screaming.  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows in displeasure, Bakura walked calmly to where Cail currently lay sprawled on the ground, a forgotten cup of brandy clutched in his left hand, the contents splashed across his front. Oily brown hair falling across his face, Cail peered up at the Thief King, fear and anger mixing in his murky brown eyes. Bending down to hoist Cail up by his worn shirtfront, Bakura smiled crookedly as he straightened to his full height, topping Cail by a head.  
  
"Now, now, that's not how we great friends, is it?"  
  
"Friends? Friends! Last time I saw you I had half my *ass* bitten off!"  
  
Frowning, Bakura thought back to the incident. "It was only a small bite. The crocodiles really have been severely underfed; it was just doing what was in its nature."  
  
"Small? I couldn't walk for months!"  
  
"The price you pay for success my friend, though it seems you haven't been having much since last I saw you."  
  
And in all truth, Bakura's observation was correct. The ends of Cail's baggy linen trousers were well worn, the knees threadbare, and his shirt so overly patched hardly any of the initial garment remained.  
  
Rubbing a hand through his greasy hair, Cail's narrowed eyes focused on the floor just in front of his sandled toes. "Yeah, well, not all of us have your particular... skills."  
  
"Speaking of skills," Bakura started, grabbing behind him for Lyanna's arm and pulling her next to him roughly, "how much do you think we could get for her?"  
  
Of all the reactions Bakura would have expected from Cail - eyes lighting up with greed at the prospect of a good sell, ogling the girl for whatever feminine charms she might have possessed - the one he got was not one of them.  
  
Instead of staring quite noticeably like he usually did when he saw a woman of any semblance of beauty, Cail yelped, leaping backwards a few feet and clutching the cup to his chest like a talisman against some form of evil. His eyes looked like they were about to pop from his head as he stared anxiously around the room, eyes darting from the girl, to Bakura, and back around the room again. Mouth working in a silent litany, Cail slowly crept closer, staying as far from Lyanna as he could and still speak to Bakura.  
  
"What." he paused to lick lips suddenly gone dry, eyes still round as saucers. "What in the name of all that is holy and good do you think you're doing with... with her?!"  
  
"Like I said, how much do you think we could get for her?" Bakura questioned once more, one eyebrow raised in silent amusement at Cail's rather unusual display of nerves. He scanned the room nonchalantly, noting that none of the few occupants had noticed a thing, and were unlikely to notice anything except the inside of their cups for some time.  
  
Lyanna, having been silent up until this point, now chose to speak. Which, for Bakura, was quite possibly her most annoying choice so far.  
  
"Did you ever stop to think," she started acidly, glaring up at Bakura, "that other's might actually recognize someone from the ruling family? Just because you're too incompetent to see it, doesn't mean that other's wont."  
  
Bakura winced, looking around the room quickly to see if anyone had overheard. Of course, the girl had had enough sense to keep her voice low, but you could never be too sure. Cail, suspicions confirmed, let out an odd sounding squeak, face draining of all color. He looked from Lyanna to Bakura, mouth once more working silently. This time, however, Bakura felt like he was trying to scream instead of get out any real words.  
  
"You ... you ki-kidnapped ... the Ph-ph-pharaohs'... little sister?" The sentence finally came out, broken and breathy though it was.  
  
Taking Cail's arm in one hand and Lyanna's in the other, Bakura dragged them both from the room. This was not the place for such conversations. Heading out the door, Bakura wasn't surprised when no one noticed their departure, just as no one had noticed their entrance and the rather odd display that had followed. Bakura looked up and down the street warily, still pulling the two along behind him despite Lyanna's attempts at struggling free of him. He did not release them again until they had entered a small, darkened alleyway, though his hand hovered close to Lyanna's arm in case she decided to try and bolt.  
  
Lyanna's arms folded across her chest stubbornly, her head held high in that annoyingly arrogant way she had. She regarded Bakura from narrowed violet eyes, a frosty set to her features. Bakura, resolutely ignoring her, rounded on Cail, watching as the slightly shorter man shifted uneasily, the cup from earlier still clenched tightly between his grubby fingers.  
  
"Now, how the hell would the likes of you know the Pharaoh's sister on sight?" He demanded, curiosity coloring his words.  
  
Cail refused to meet Bakura's gaze, eyes darting around the alley wildly in the hopes of some escape to suddenly present itself to him. Unfortunately, no such escape was in ready supply and Bakura was growing impatient. Grabbing Cail's patched shirtfront, Bakura picked him up and slammed him against a wall, his grip on the shirt tightening and the cloth around Cail's neck tightening uncomfortably.  
  
"Okay, okay!" he spluttered, hands yanking desperately on Bakura's firm grip. "I ... I was in Cairo not that long ago and, well, I saw her when the Pharaoh was making some announcement that was real important. I wasn't really listening - there were other, more important things, that I was doing at the time."  
  
Bakura snorted, releasing his grip from Cail's shirt and stepping backwards. "You mean you were picking pockets."  
  
Cail colored slightly, a glare crossing his face. "I only do what I have to. It's just a part time thing, anyhow. 'S not like I was intending to try making a living from it or anything."  
  
His flush darkened considerably at Bakura's derisive laughter, knowing full well that the latter had never had to stoop to such means to get his next meal. But then, Bakura was in possession of . certain talents . that put him above the rest. Cail didn't know how he did it, he just knew that no wall or guard had ever seemed to stand in the way of something Bakura had wanted.  
  
"Yes, well, that still doesn't explain the how of your knowledge of who she is."  
  
"She was there." He spat, looking to the girl in mild interest. "Standing right next to him, arrogant as she is now, and looking for all the world like she'd rather be anywhere else."  
  
Bakura's head turned marginally in the girl's direction, one eyebrow raised slightly. Her head raised further, if possible, and the frosty look took on an air of anger, a flush barely discernable on her dark cheeks.  
  
Bakura tapped his chin thoughtfully, one arm folded over his chest as he stared contemplatively from Lyanna to Cail. "Do you think anyone else might recognize her?" he asked finally, breaking the long stretch of silence that had been steadily growing.  
  
Cail shrugged indifferently, shaking his head slightly. "They will or they won't; your guess is as good as mine. I'll tell you one thing though. No one is gonna believe that the girl is anything but a royal in clothes like that. You'll have to get her something new - as soon as you can - or else people are going to start getting suspicious."  
  
Bakura snorted, surveying the girl from head to toe. "Yes, well, the silk should fetch a fair enough price after all the trouble she's put me through so far. Messed up a perfectly good haul."  
  
Cail winced in sympathy. "Slave markets wont be opening up again for a few weeks. That should leave you with plenty of time to get her something else, come up with convincing papers or whatever it is they want nowadays. Use to be you could just show up with someone to sell." He shook his head slowly, a reminiscent look to his face.  
  
He started abruptly, looking around in resumed anxiety. "Wh-what about her brother? Not the most ... forgiving ... of people." Cail swallowed thickly, reminiscence replaced with fear.  
  
"Never worry about that." Bakura replied shortly, waving the matter away with a hand. "Yami probably has yet to realize she's gone."  
  
"That's a lie!" Lyanna snapped suddenly, hands done by her sides and clenched in anger as she glared at Bakura, eyes sparking.  
  
Bakura merely spared a cursory glance in her direction, his mouth twitching with amusement. "Is that so? Tell me, *princess *, how important do you think you really are? Females, as you obviously must know, are of little to no value except in their ability to produce heirs. One mere little girl, *highness *, is not going to matter to the Pharaoh of all Egypt and its providence's. You are, simply put, worthless."  
  
Lyanna's mouth fell open, lips working briefly in an attempt to say something more. However, no cutting remark or heated reply left her. She merely stared up at him, wide eyed and suddenly speechless as he turned back to Cail without a backwards glance.  
  
Sinking in on herself, Lyanna felt, for the first time so far, hopeless. Up until now, the firm knowledge that her brother would come for her had been like her own private salvation, despite the looming threat of being sold like little more than an animal. But now...  
  
Bakura's words had made it come crashing home. Hadn't Yami tried to shove her off on some other country, give her away in order to gain more personal power? Much as she hated to believe it, there was no denying the facts when he had laid them out so clearly. It was true; women were thought of as a nuisance at the best of times, a soon to be dealt with annoyance.  
  
"Come on, you. I'll be leaving you with Cail momentarily; have to get those Ra damned clothes for you."  
  
Lyanna started as Bakura hauled her upwards roughly, a spark of anger still burning despite his earlier words. Clinging to her earlier hope like a man dying of thirst to a pitcher of water, Lyanna followed behind in mock submission, much like she had been required to do when at court, or anywhere near those of any real importance.  
  
Yami would come for her; he would.  
  
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Seito, High Priest of Anubis, ordained to his station by the holy priests of Anubis' Order, was not a happy man. Not only had his moron of a cousin insisted on having him woken in the middle of the night, he had insisted on keeping him near to help in the ridiculous search for his half-wit of a sister. It wasn't *his * problem if she just up and disappeared, why should *he * loose sleep if she was gone?  
  
Bits of the slaves memorized message drifted through his sleepy haze, but he did not need to hear much in order to catch the gist of what he was saying. Lyanna was gone, still no clue where the hell she was, Yami was increasingly mad. No change yet.  
  
Rubbing eyes that were struggling to keep themselves open with tired fingers, Seito made a sharp cutting gesture to stop the slaves frightened report. Yami had long since left to continue somewhere else and keep anyone outside the palace from knowing of the girls' disappearance. He had left the oh-so-lovely task of gathering reports up to his cousin, never thinking that others just might need sleep every now and then in order to function sanely. Just because *he * thought he could go three days with no rest, did not mean others were possessed of the same ability.  
  
"That will be quite enough." He said sharply, not really caring that his tone was likely to set the slaves nerves further on edge than they probably already where; after all, he was just a slave. "I believe I can figure out the rest by myself." Of course, anyone with any amount of brainpower would have been able to. Sister missing, plus no clue where she was, equaled very pissy Pharaoh. Simple enough.  
  
"You have been ... helpful ... in your own way, I'm sure. Now go."  
  
Seito sank back into his chair as the slave all but ran for the door, pausing only to throw it open and close it once more before taking off at a run for whatever pointless task it was that he did. He was allowed only a few moments rest, however, before another slave opened the door to his private chambers timidly, poking his head through first before his body followed the rest of the way.  
  
"You have been summoned to the Pharaoh's audience room, and are to be there as soon as possible." He said, speaking in a hurried voice and sketching a quick bow after almost every word.  
  
Eyes snapping open, Seito rose slowly from his chair and stalked across the room, wishing devoutly to strangle someone. Perhaps it could be overlooked as some sort of sacrifice to Anubis.  
  
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Dueljewl: Meh, there it is. Crappy as it all was, that's what you're going to have to deal with till I can get the fourth chapter out. Expect some more turbulence between the Bakura and Lyanna before anything more happens. Hope you got some small measure of enjoyment from my crappy fic, lol. ^___^ 


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